


grown up

by moonsamurai



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Birthday, Fluff, Four needs a hug, Friendship, Gen, I guess he technically gets one, kind of, last day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:46:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26189707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonsamurai/pseuds/moonsamurai
Summary: Today was supposed to be Four's last day to see the Minish.
Relationships: Four & Wind (Linked Universe)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 129





	grown up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Script_the_Skeleton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Script_the_Skeleton/gifts).



> kind of bullshitted my way through it, but I thought it was an interesting prompt so I tried my hand at it! sorry it's so short lol  
> Happy exchange, Script! ^u^

“I can’t believe it’s here already.”

Four sits in the grass, knees drawn to his chest. The Minish skitter up and down his arm, around his head, squeaking in a language that’s too far to decipher. He’s smiling, picking at the grass one blade at a time, tickling the little creatures before blowing the grass away.

It’s nice and peaceful. The colors are quiet for once, each of them staying in their own bubble of silence. 

“I can’t believe I grew up so fast,” he chuckles as one of the critters sits on his fingertip. There’s a note of sadness in there somewhere, but he doesn't bother trying to find it. “I’ll miss you all.”

The little Minish chirps at him, and somewhere in the haze of the faraway language, he digs up a _‘us too.’_ A wistful smile appears on his face. 

“I know,” he says quietly as a breeze blows by. “I hope I’ll at least be able to see you all until tomorrow.”

All four colors shift in agreement, and he breathes out a laugh. It’s been too long since they’ve all agreed on something. Especially Blue and Vio.

There’s a spike of what’s probably supposed to be offended, but comes off more as resigned agreement. Four just chuckles again, shaking his head softly.

The day goes slower than Four would’ve expected. No one except the Minish joins him, except when Wind comes to hand him lunch Wild made. He joins Four wordlessly, cooing over the Minish and giving them little crumbs of bread to eat.

Four watches Wind with a pleased smile, biting into his sandwich. 

“Why do you look so sad?” Wind asks when he gets up, brushing himself off and setting the Minish on to the ground. “Tomorrow’s your birthday.”

The smith looks down at the Minish, chittering excitedly at Wind’s words. Four’s smile slips into a neutral line. “It’s nothing,” he says, swallowing thickly. “Don’t worry, I’ll come back later.”

Wind observes him for a second before nodding and turning away. Four almost breathes a sigh of relief - the kid’s too perceptive at times.

His fingers brush by the Minish and he squints. The little critter is transparent in the light - the earth visible beneath it. 

“Oh,” he mumbles under his breath. They’re already disappearing, which was expected, but it still hurts. The Minish apparently feels his distress, as they chitter faster and gather at his lap, seemingly wanting to help. 

They’re all transparent and it hurts because he wants to keep touch with them a little longer, he wants to be small and walk into their village again and join them in their little festivals from time to time and talk with them and _doesn’t want them to go--_

His vision blurs over a flash of dark red eyes, and the Minish are squeaking softly, scrambling up his arms and moving to his shoulders like a flock of birds. They’re all saying something akin to _‘it’s okay’_ or _‘we’ll miss you’_ but it just makes the blur worse. He rubs at his eyes before the tears can fall.

Red’s sobbing somewhere in his mind, which Four guesses to be the main source of the tears threatening to spill again. Blue’s on edge, though, along with Vio and Green. He shuts his eyes and sees Blue furiously shaking tears off and Green wiping them away discreetly. Vio’s expression is blank, but Four swears there’s a glimmer in the purple-clad boy’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers solemnly, cupping his hands around a Minish that had crawled onto his hand. A watery smile appears on his face as the others skitter into his hands too, squeaking in their language that’s fading from the back of his mind.

Dark violet eyes dart between the little creatures, trying to soak in and retain the language, wishing someday he can speak it again, but it’s no use. The language was never meant for adults, after all.

“Only good children can see the Minish,” Four sighs, setting his tiny companions down. He drops his hands, ripping out a chunk of grass with his right. He blows it away in the afternoon breeze, watching them fly away easily. “And I’m not a child anymore.”

_You never will be again._ Four bites his lip, bright blue eyes darkening in anger before defusing under green. The voice is right, he realizes as he deflates sadly. Today was his last day - and today had to end. 

“I’ll be an adult tomorrow,” he says, flicking his eyes up to the clouds. The sky’s barely started turning pink, the sun setting too fast for his liking. He’ll have to go back soon. “I’ll never see you guys again.”

They’re squeaking, but Four doesn’t know what they’re saying anymore. Vio chimes softly with rough translations, but even his voice is wavering. 

“I’m gonna miss you guys.” His voice drops into a whisper, and he’s swallowing down his fear as his face breaks into a miniscule smile. “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry today… so I won’t.”

The Minish are just barely visible in the dying sun now, and Four’s smile grows wistful. “Thanks for everything,” he says, closing his eyes. “Tell Ezlo I say ‘hi,’ will you?”Four drops into silence, glancing down at the Minish that have skittered down his arm, sitting on his lap and watching the sunset. They’re almost completely transparent now, faint outlines disappearing with the day.

The sky’s darkening to blue when Four gets up and brushes himself off. With a hushed ‘goodbye,’ he leaves to go back to the group. He doesn’t look back. (No matter how loud Blue and Red yell.)

When he gets back, he eats dinner rigidly. The others notice, but don’t comment - instead, Wild says something about tomorrow, sparking an argument between Warriors, Legend, and him. It’s absolute chaos, and Time doesn’t seem inclined to stop them.

Neither does Twilight, apparently, instead opting to stand up and move to Four, who’s the furthest away from them. Wind’s egging them on loudly, Sky’s watching with a resigned sigh, and Hyrule looks ready to jump in at any minute. 

All in all, it’s a normal night. For the rest of them, anyways.

As Four finishes his dinner, he spots a little critter on Wind’s shoulder. It’s transparent with a faded white outline around it. It looks like it’s whispering furiously into the young boy’s ear, even if he won’t understand.

Four would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious, but it wasn’t like it mattered anymore, anyway. It wasn’t like he’d understand, or even _see_ them anymore. 

That night, he volunteers to watch first.

As the night goes on, he swears he can see small flashes of the Minish running around, around him, around the others, but it’s too faint to see. Upon midnight, he finds that they’re completely gone. All traces of the Minish have disappeared.

They’re gone now. He’ll probably never see them again.

He feels strangely numb. The colors are in chaos, but it’s a different, muted chaos that doesn’t happen often. It’s, for some reason, comforting. 

_“You think one day…?”_

“One day?” Four mumbles out loud, gazing at the flickering fire. “Probably not.”

_“...Yeah.”_

The next day feels surreal, if nothing else. Usually, he’d wake to chittering of the Minish, filled everywhere with the little creatures moving under the grass to hide rupees or hearts, keeping Four up with the latest things in the Hyrule he’s in, and so on.

But today’s silent, other than his imagination. No squeaking, no flashes of tiny feet around the ground - just _silence._

Four knows he has to get used to this, although he’s not sure if he ever will. 

“Happy birthday!!” the rest of the group shouts around the fire as he sits down on a log. A smile is on each of their faces, and even if it’s painful, Four can’t bring himself not to smile.

Wind sidles up next to him, a birthday cake on a little tray in his hands. He’s smiling brightly as he holds it up to Four, gesturing with his head to blow the four candles out. 

“Make a wish,” he says. Four blinks and thinks for a moment, staring at the tiny flames gleaming at the tip of the colorful candles. The colors are shifting again, making their own wishes they _know_ Hylia will never grant.

_May Hylia, or any goddess really, grant my wish._

He blows out the candles, leaning back with a smaller, satisfied smile. Smoke rises from the candles as Wind pulls the cake back, yanking out the candles and casting them into the ground.

Four _swears_ he sees a red feather upon a green-hooded head grabbing the discarded candles, but they’re gone before he can really process it. Vio’s fallen silent, already replaying the memory multiple times, wanting to confirm that they all spotted a Minish.

Vio quickly ends up concluding that it was nothing, just a figment of their imagination, but there's a _what if_ in his words. He's uncertain, which is unlike him.

“Hey, um…” Wind starts, handing the cake over to Wild to cut. “I should probably tell you… I think the Minish want to say 'happy birthday' too."

For a moment, Four startles, having forgotten Wind was still young enough to see them, although he didn't (and would never) know their language. A sharp pang of longing takes his breath away, but he regains his composure and nods, albeit shakily.

The younger boy hands Four a leaf, his smile turning shy. “They wrote it.”

Turning over the leaf shows a little note with a red rupee. 

_Happy birthday, Link! Thank you for everything! -The Minish_

Swallowing, Four rereads the message over and over again. The message is written in his Hylian, and he only knows one person who can write in his language.

“Oh, Ezlo,” he whispers, tears dotting the leaf. “Thank _you._ ”

And perhaps it’s just his imagination, but a tiny little outline _just_ barely visible on Wind’s shoulder smiles.


End file.
